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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984117">Wolfsbane Boiling On An Open Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebetterwords/pseuds/goodboylupin'>goodboylupin (somebetterwords)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A String of Christmas Lights [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Potions, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, Wolfsbane Potion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:20:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebetterwords/pseuds/goodboylupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Twas the night before Christmas, a creature <em>was</em> stirring.</p><p>(The creature being a little boy who ought to have been nestled all snug in his bed while visions of sugarplums danced in his head.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black &amp; Remus Lupin &amp; Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A String of Christmas Lights [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wolfsbane Boiling On An Open Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="https://remus-john-lupin.tumblr.com/post/634951075596828672/its-come-to-my-attention-that-i-have-fireplace">pixelated's Holiday Prompt List</a></p><p>As the third in the Christmas series, it was of course beta'ed by <a href="https://swottypotter.tumblr.com/">Miri.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>As a consequence of spending three years on the frontline of a war whose soldiers were often ambushed and savaged in the sanctity of their own homes, Sirius Black was an incredibly light sleeper. This was especially true on the nights immediately before and after the full moon, when Remus was not in top fighting form.</p></div><div class=""><p>So while most people would have long ago learned to sleep through the creaks of an old house settling, if ever it had even bothered them in the first place, Sirius still woke. And Sirius always, without fail, rose out of bed and drew his wand from under his pillow in one fluid movement. He first scanned the room for intruders before creeping out to the hallway and assessing the threats there. None found, he made his way downstairs to the place from which he thought the odd clang had emanated.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>He was indeed met with a person who had no business being in their kitchen at — Sirius glanced at the massive clock in their dining nook — eleven at night, but as Sirius had a rather extraordinary height, weight, and magical advantage over the eight-year-old in novelty onesie pyjamas fiddling with the dials of the stove, he felt wholly safe to tuck his wand in the pocket of his low-slung plaid flannel pants.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Har’ Bear,” Sirius called, tilting his head to the side.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Harry whipped around to face him, mouth forming a little ‘o’ at being caught. He wiped the surprise off his face quickly and pasted on an angelic smile. “Hi, Dadfoot! Everything is fine,” he rushed to assure. “I just got hungry so I decided to make a cheese toastie. I didn’t want to bother you and Moomy when his secret sick time is coming up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Offering up so much information unprompted was such a rookie mistake, Sirius would have felt disappointed if it didn’t indicate he was raising an honest child who had seldom occasion to lie in the first place. “You decided on a cheese toastie,” Sirius said.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Harry nodded eagerly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Even though you could have finished the chocolate trees from the gingerbread village without Moomy fighting you for them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Harry let out a dramatic gasp and slapped the side of his head. “Why didn’t I think of that!” He exclaimed. “Thank you for reminding me, I’ll just go eat those right now!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As Harry tried to walk past him to the formal dining room, Sirius placed a large hand on the boy’s head, stopping him in place. “Try again, little bud. Maybe the truth this time?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Harry stared fixedly at the ground. He fiddled with his sleeves and shuffled a reindeer slipper-clad foot before admitting the truth. “I wanted to move the cauldron.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sirius’s eyes widened in alarm. “<em>Harry</em>,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and gripping his child by the shoulders, giving him a little jostle before he met Sirius’s gaze. “You know you’re never to touch a potion without direct supervision, and never to touch <em>that</em> potion at all! Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? What in the world were you thinking!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We have to move the cauldron out of the fireplace or Santa’s gonna knock it over!” Harry cried, bright green eyes welling with tears. “When he comes down the chimney!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sirius exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had been an ongoing conversation between him and Remus this year, that perhaps it was time to tell Harry the truth about good Saint Nick. Remus was of the opinion that it was better that they break the news than the muggle children Harry sometimes played with at the park on weekends. Sirius disagreed, since wizard children, familiar with the existence of magic as they were, believed for much longer in the possibility of a single man visiting every household on the planet in the span of a single night. Even the youngest Weasley children had not yet been disavowed of the notion by their many older siblings, he’d pointed out, and thus won the argument for another year.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing good ever came out of winning an argument against Remus.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We cannot move the cauldron, Harry.” Sirius quietly implored, enveloping Harry’s hands in his own. “That potion requires a <em>constant</em> open flame directly beneath it until dawn or else it won’t do Moomy any more good than if he drank a glass of pond scum.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then you have to tell Santa not to come this year, Dadfoot,” Harry insisted. “Send him a Patronus charm, please, saying I don’t want any presents if it means messing up Moomy’s special medicine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re not missing out on any Christmas presents because there’s a potion in the fireplace, Harry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I have to! Moomy needs the potion and Santa can’t land in the space <em>behind</em> the cauldron. He’s too fat!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You needn’t worry yourself about how Santa Claus is going to manoeuvre around a cauldron.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, how else is he going to get out from the chimney?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He isn’t, Harry. No one is coming down the chimney.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t understand,” Harry said, voice wavering.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Harry, the truth is —“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The truth is that Santa doesn’t actually come down the chimney most of the time,” a bleary-eyed Remus explained, having appeared quite suddenly over Sirius’s shoulder. “He used to, you see, back when all the stories and songs about him were first written, but nowadays there are so very many children, and so many who live in homes that don’t even <em>have</em> chimneys, that except for a few traditional drop-ins done for ceremony, he usually just lands his sleigh on the nearest roof and goes through an open door or window.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But we keep all our doors and windows locked at night,” Harry challenged.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Surreptitiously, hand shielded behind Sirius’s back, Remus threw an <em>Alohamora</em> at the window above the sink. “Are you sure about that?” He asked, going over to slide it open a crack.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But what if he wants to do a traditional drop-in at our house for ceremony?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll write him a note,” Sirius offered. “I’ll leave a note on the roof letting him know we’d rather he save that for the next house and just take our window.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Assuming, of course,” Remus drawled, “he’ll even be <em>able</em> to come to our house when our child is still wide awake. That part of the story is still accurate to this day, Harry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No!” Harry cried, dashing to the staircase and clambering up. “I’m going back to sleep <em>right now</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know,” Sirius muttered into the newfound quiet of the kitchen. “I was about to tell him the truth.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Remus smiled. “We’ve raised a wonderful little boy." He opened the pantry where they had hidden the bulk of this year’s Christmas gifts and levitated them out to the living room. “A wonderful, sweet boy who was ready to give up the magic of Santa himself just to protect me. You were right before, we ought to let him hold on to it for as long as we can.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right, we’ll tell him when he’s eleven, then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Aye, just before he hops on the Hogwarts Express.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rebloggable on <a href="https://goodboylupin.tumblr.com/post/637064391558365184/wolfsbane-boiling-on-open-fire">Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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